Okay. Recorded absenteeism on Days 9 & 10. Blame the corporate. Not getting into much details of it - for it can only sound stodgy.
Day 11: A weekend. Typing this out from office. 3.04 pm. Nothing much has happened in the last two days; except for deteriorated stamina and increased work burden. A friend asked me to sign up for a writing project on www.nanowrimo.org but shelling out as many as 1700 words a day only sounded draining. I am anyways working out on this Diary Project, so I let it pass on.
Diwali is here. I vividly remember the glorious makeup a sweet shop got done for itself during last year's festival. As much as I feel comfortable whiling away my years in darkness and its warmth, such sporadic exposes to eye-widening glories only invoke a childlike joy within me.
There was this time in my life, circa 2013, when I used to dream about a life - devoid of any happenings to call it a happening life. Like the one Irfan Khan has in Lunch Box before he meets his elusive, angelic lunch-feeder. I kind of pined for it back then, considering the stuff that was happening in my life.
Spin 3 years and a few good months on the wheel, I am living that life right now. It is not really as pleasant as I had expected it to be. For that matter, when was the last time I thought something was pleasant? I don't recall that, neither do the ones who read this regularly. You know me, don't you? Always glass-half-empty.
Day 11: A weekend. Typing this out from office. 3.04 pm. Nothing much has happened in the last two days; except for deteriorated stamina and increased work burden. A friend asked me to sign up for a writing project on www.nanowrimo.org but shelling out as many as 1700 words a day only sounded draining. I am anyways working out on this Diary Project, so I let it pass on.
Diwali is here. I vividly remember the glorious makeup a sweet shop got done for itself during last year's festival. As much as I feel comfortable whiling away my years in darkness and its warmth, such sporadic exposes to eye-widening glories only invoke a childlike joy within me.
There was this time in my life, circa 2013, when I used to dream about a life - devoid of any happenings to call it a happening life. Like the one Irfan Khan has in Lunch Box before he meets his elusive, angelic lunch-feeder. I kind of pined for it back then, considering the stuff that was happening in my life.
Spin 3 years and a few good months on the wheel, I am living that life right now. It is not really as pleasant as I had expected it to be. For that matter, when was the last time I thought something was pleasant? I don't recall that, neither do the ones who read this regularly. You know me, don't you? Always glass-half-empty.
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